


Stubborn Giants and Other Disturbances

by anewspringwillcome



Category: Project Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Family Dynamics, Gen, Humor, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 15:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15270321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anewspringwillcome/pseuds/anewspringwillcome
Summary: With an avalanche leaving the group stuck in Stillsnow for a few days, Therion can only focus on the bangle around his wrist and what seems to be a sudden lack of interest from his companions.





	Stubborn Giants and Other Disturbances

**Author's Note:**

> This is my final contribution before I actually get to play the game tomorrow, and you can probably only expect more after that. This past month of writing for this fandom has brought me so much joy, and I can't wait to see more people writing things for it now that the full game has released. Please enjoy reading this and have a great time playing the game whenever you can get your hands on it!
> 
> Also the very end of this is basically the "whoever threw that paper, your mom's a hoe!" Vine. So look forward to that, i guess.

“Many millennia ago, before the frost took over the north, its biological makeup was better suited to more temperate a climate. Over the years the environment would grow gradually colder, causing the rose to adapt and persist even in such an icy habitat, and of course, giving the town of Stillsnow its name. It is the only plant native to the town which transformed in this way in order to survive. All others went extinct in the area, being replaced with species already long accustomed to the weather.” Cyrus smiled pleasantly at his companions as he looked up from the glossy plant growing in a small porcelain flower-pot on the table before him. “Such are the foibles of life.”

“Oh, spare me, _please,”_ Therion said, rolling his eyes as, for the millionth time, he caught the apple he had been tossing up in the air. “It’s a flower, not a metaphor.”

Wholly unaffected by Therion’s words, Cyrus stayed ever true to form as a professor as he waited to answer any questions while Alfyn, who had listened to his plant lesson in earnest, studied the rose’s structure. “Its leaves are like rubber,” Alfyn said thoughtfully, muttering possible concoctions he could throw together with this outlandish flower. “A burn elixir, maybe…”

It had been almost two days now of sitting holed up in Stillsnow, and Therion was clearly the most restless of the group to get back on the road. They all had been disappointed to arrive to the news of the avalanche, its wreckage spilling down the small mountainous region east of the town and clear across the way they had intended to head next, going off a tip Alfyn had gotten about the location of one of the missing dragonstones.

But the other three were coping perfectly well with the estimated five day wait while the detritus of ice and tree branches was being cleared out of their only feasible path. Cyrus had taken up studying every inch of the town, comparing the descriptions in his readings with the real thing -- and, naturally, sharing his discoveries with anyone unlucky enough to be in the general vicinity. Alfyn, who had been taking notes on and collecting samples of every foreign and possibly medicinal substance he came across in his travels, was finally granted enough time to sit down with his garnered information and test out potential uses for it. His arm was covered in patches left from studying the effects of preliminary experimentative recipes for various salves and creams.  And Tressa, ever enthusiastic, was almost impossible to pin down at any single location. She had been romping around the town in her usual cheery manner since they arrived, carrying that oversized backpack with her as she investigated buildings and conducted business with the townspeople, who Therion thought must be beside themselves with confusion about who the hell this tiny, chirpy, and self-determined girl trying to buy goods off of them was.

Therion, on the other hand, was _not_ coping _._ As a general rule, he didn’t like to stay in any place for too long, especially not one where it was freezing cold and he had to listen to Cyrus sermonize at length about the local delicacies, the historic architecture, the flora and fauna. He could handle Cyrus’s academic lectures on a regular day, perhaps even appreciate them in secret. But here, having been crammed into a little room in the inn of a town of subzero temperatures for nearly forty-eight hours, he could only look down at the bangle _still_ clamped around his wrist and think of a million things he should be doing instead.

Presently, Alfyn’s stomach rumbled, breaking him out of his intense examination of the flower. “Must be time t’find dinner,” he said with exhaustion in his voice, straightening as he peered out the window. It was nearly twilight. “Gee, I didn’t notice how dark it was getting. Have you even eaten today, Cyrus?”

“Ah…” Cyrus hummed, glanced up from the book he had started reading -- a boring-looking little volume on the history of Stillsnow that he had picked up in the town’s library, one of many different journals and tomes he had open on the table in front of him. “A delightful little melon-filled chocolate Tressa offered me when we crossed paths by the tavern, around noon I believe.”

Therion watched Alfyn run a hand through his hair and just barely sigh. It was no mystery why he had asked only Cyrus -- the scholar sometimes went days without a proper meal, so involved with his studies that such matters simply slipped his mind. Alfyn normally regulated the team’s health, made sure that they were all taking care of themselves. Today, though, he had spent hours focused on work of his own and forgotten the time.

“I’ll check out the kitchen. I think Tressa mentioned the innkeeper was making vegetable chili tonight,” he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Where _is_ Tressa, anyway?”

Therion stared up at the ceiling from his position lying sideways across one of the two beds in the room, having given up on trying to find his apple tossing entertaining. “Beats the hell out of me,” he said. “‘Earlier she caught me tryin’ to lift this onyx bracelet off the lady who runs the reception desk. Gave me those annoying judgmental eyes.” He didn’t mention that those eyes alone had been enough to stop him in the act of stealing the bracelet; he hadn’t been much in the mood to steal _anything_ since they first got stuck in Stillsnow.

“Well, I guess I oughta track her down, too,” Alfyn said on his way out of the room, and Therion hoped he did. The girl always repaired the normally easygoing apothecary’s mood when he seemed stressed.

But it was only a moment later -- not even long enough for the room to return to silence -- that the door swung back open and Tressa herself zipped in. “Guys, you’ll never believe what I just bought from this woman at the tavern.” Therion smirked as he imagined her being offered some of the things _he_ had seen women offering at taverns -- all of them more than immoral. Still Tressa insisted, “it’s _amazing._ ”

Cyrus set his book down with a smile, always willing to entertain Tressa’s notions. “Pray tell what this time? Another fish brooch?”

Therion remembered the brooch in question -- the garish form of a red snapper -- with a frown. “It had better not be.”

“No, it’s _even greater,”_ Tressa said seriously. “Get over here!”

Therion grumbled but obeyed, if only because he was so painfully bored of doing nothing. He pulled a chair up to the table as Tressa cleared Cyrus’ countless books out of her way, Cyrus himself setting the one he was reading aside as well. It had always been this way, ever since Therion had began traveling with the two. Cyrus always seemed more than interested in the oddities Tressa came across, studying each to tell her what he knew of its past.

So it would be another history lesson. Therion scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking expectantly at Tressa as she scrounged around in her pack to find whatever she wanted to show them. Finally she gave a pleased exclamation as her hand connected with something, which she then ripped out of the pack triumphantly. Therion blinked at the small rectangular box, recognizing what it was immediately.

“A deck of cards?” Therion asked dully, unimpressed. “You could buy those off anyone.”

“Not this specific deck! Each one I come across is so different from the last,” Tressa said, peeling back the deconstructed box housing the cards. “And I left my collection back in Rippletide. I miss playing cards! I thought we could play a few rounds of Stubborn Giant.”

Cyrus held out a hand, which Tressa immediately placed the cards in so that he could inspect them. “Beautiful art,” he commented as he scanned each one. “Crafted in Sunshade, most likely. See this symbol here?”

As much as Tressa also liked to express how boring she found Cyrus' academic lectures, she made an exception when those lectures involved the origins of interesting items. Like now, as she looked at whatever he had pointed out with great excitement. It was an exchange Therion once might have secretly found endearing. Tonight, though, everything was getting on his nerves.

“Only the two of you weirdos could be so interested in a dusty old deck of cards,” he groused.

Tressa whipped her head back around to give him a bright look. “You’re just afraid of _losing_.”

“Of losing a card game I’ve never heard of to some snot-faced kid?” he asked, smirking. “Not likely.”

“You’ve never played Stubborn Giant?” Tressa said incredulously, to which Therion shrugged. “You’re joking! Everybody’s played Stubborn Giant.”

Therion glanced at Cyrus, receiving an apologetic look as confirmation. “It is indeed a rather common game taught to school-aged children.”

“Well, sorry I haven’t really had many people around to play children’s card games with,” Therion said, feeling slightly defensive; all three of his companions knew an abridged version of the rudiments of his past. His life had not been filled with a great many relationships.

“Before you met _us_ ,” Tressa corrected. “Now you have no reason not to learn.”

“Yeah, fine,” Therion said, eyeing Cyrus’ hands as they expertly shuffled the deck. “Let’s get this over with, kid.”

“This,” Tressa said importantly as she held up a card depicting an unpleasant looking man between two fingers. “Is the stubborn giant. There’s only one of him in the deck.” She passed it back to Cyrus, who slipped it into the deck and continued shuffling. “Cyrus is gonna deal us all an even amount of cards, and then we have to make pairs of same numbered ones. Each turn everybody has to draw a card from the person to their left. You’re trying to get rid of all of your cards first. Whoever is left with the stubborn giant after all the cards have been matched loses. Got it?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll manage,” Therion said blandly as he picked up the cards Cyrus had dealt him.

Stubborn Giant turned out to rely mostly on luck and a great poker face -- both things Therion had a fair amount of, though that didn’t keep him from losing. Halfway through the game, Alfyn slipped back into the room juggling four bowls. Taking in the competitive air in the room with a grin, he said nothing as he divvied out the bowls of chili so as not to interrupt the game. He leaned against the wall spooning chili into his mouth while he observed amusedly as Tressa threw suspicious glances around at her opponents until she ran out of cards. By the time both Therion and Cyrus had only a few cards each left in their hands, Therion thought he was surely in the clear until he drew a card from a blank-faced Cyrus and was left with the stubborn giant.

“I am afraid you are the stubborn giant, my friend,” Cyrus said, his tone cordial as he laid out his final match a couple turns later.

Tressa laughed delightedly. “Hey, at least that means you’ll finally be tall!”

“Ha, ha,” Therion replied dryly, picking up his bowl of chili. “How long were you sitting on that joke?”

“Too long,” Tressa admitted with glee. “But I like that about you! It’s nice to have someone at my height with these two _actual_ giants around,” she added, propping her arm on Cyrus’ shoulder as she turned to Alfyn. “Have you ever played Stubborn Giant, Alf?”

“Sure.” Alfyn smiled down at her as he finished his dinner. “Back in Clearbrook we call it Vile Titan, though.”

“I would be interested in looking into the way the titles of common games vary across the realm,” Cyrus said thoughtfully. “I ought to peruse the library for a book that might have answers on the matter in the morning.”

“Ooh, but I have to show you this statue they have in the tavern first,” Tressa said through a mouthful of food.

Therion gazed down at the fool’s bangle as he stirred his chili vacantly. Trying to tune out the conversation around him, he felt himself getting more agitated with every word his companions said about their plans for the next day. He pushed his chair out from the table and stood to distance himself from them, not feeling all that interested in eating.

“Tress, that reminds me: did you still want to look into trying out recipes to recreate that chicken dish we had in Flamesgrace?” Alfyn was asking. “The innkeeper said we could have our run of the kitchen tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

“Yeah!” Tressa said, setting her dishware down with a clatter. “I actually bought some cayenne off a merchant earlier--”

“This isn’t a vacation,” Therion snapped darkly, finally able to control himself no longer. “You all might be perfectly content to sit here getting _nothing_ done for a week, but I’m not.”

Alfyn and Tressa exchanged a glance, while Cyrus only gazed at him with eyebrows slightly drawn together, always scrutinizing. “We have little other options so long as the path onwards is obstructed,” he said with a reasoning in his voice that only made the vague anger in Therion’s chest grow more fervent.

“Right. And you three seem happier than ever to have a break.” Therion laughed once and far too resentfully. “Spending all day playing chef, or studying plants, or buying shit that no one needs like a _deck of cards_ and forcing us all to play with it like we’re _five.”_

Tressa looked both surprised and hurt. “I thought it would take your mind off of--”

“ _Nothing_ can take my mind off of it!” He jerked his bangled arm up for them to see, shaking it for emphasis. “As long as this fucking _reminder_ of my failure is on my wrist, how could I ever even _think_ about anything else?”

Alfyn took a step forward, raising a cautious hand as he placed himself in between Therion and their other two companions while his eyes took on a hint of the protectiveness they always wore when he sensed danger. “Therion--”

“We _know_ that!” Tressa stood, cutting off whatever attempt Alfyn was making at playing mediator as she threw his arm out of her way. “We’re only sitting here because of _you_ and your _stupid_ decision to be a thief in the first place! Because we _care_ about you! _Crazy_ , right?” She was visibly shaking -- whether out of fury or woe, Therion did not know. If he had not been occupied by his own anger, he may have registered his disgust with himself for having caused her either emotion.

Instead, he turned and stormed out. Out of the room, out of the inn, and nearly out of the town before the delayed rush of cold air finally hit his skin and caused him to slow down. When he came to a stop somewhere in the middle of the mostly silent town, the first thing he recognized was the unsavory wet feeling of snow piling into his boots. He shifted slightly in discomfort. His unhappiness at being stuck in Stillsnow was not only because he would rather be searching for a key out of the fool’s bangle; he hated the snow and the coldness it brought, which was why he had been spending all of his time milling around the inn. Even the town’s tavern was barely an option as far as somewhere indoors went: it was too small and unpopulated, just like the town itself. He didn’t need rumors of the bangle around his wrist being spread around all of Orsterra, and barkeeps were always far too eager to spread other peoples’ business.

The second thing he recognized was the pace of his breathing. As he pulled the fabric on his shoulders tighter around himself to block out the cold, he frowned at each puff of foggy air that he breathed out. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such an outburst. It certainly hadn’t been in the presence of the three he had left back in the inn. No wonder Alfyn had been so quick to take a defensive position; he probably didn’t know what to expect. It made Therion feel rotten -- that Alfyn was such a good guy that his first thought was to get in between Tressa and Cyrus and any possible danger.

Finally, he recognized the sound of the door to the inn opening briefly and then shutting. Purposeful, measured footsteps which could only belong to Cyrus -- Tressa’s were quicker, while Alfyn’s were less regular -- approached him.

“If you’re here to lecture me on what a piece of shit I am, don’t bother,” Therion said without turning to face him.

“I see no reason to tell you such a thing,” Cyrus said, stopping at his side. “At least not tonight. Tonight all I must say is that I understand your frustration. The three of us thought it best to keep to busying ourselves so as not to be discouraging, but perhaps that was the wrong way to comfort you.” Therion glanced over at Cyrus to see him looking back with the hint of an amused smile. “You can be quite difficult to read at times, as I am sure you are aware. But I hope you realize we are all giving our greatest effort.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Therion said somewhat awkwardly, never one used to expressing honest emotions. He watched his breath cloud in front of him in the still silence that followed. These things were not easy for him. Then, “I’m just not handling this whole thing very well. I haven’t messed up like I did back at Ravus Manor since... a long time ago.”

He thought back to the time he had spent working with Darius, and how it had ended. How it ending had made him _feel_. He had promised never to do anything that would lead to that feeling ever again. And now not only had he done that, but he also had a reminder of it on his wrist, permanent as can be for the foreseeable future. At his side, he could sense Cyrus’ pity. Except, loath as he was to think such hopeful things, he was lately growing more accustomed to the idea that it was more likely sympathy than pity.

“The dragonstones are out there,” Cyrus said. “I am sure you don’t require my saying that the three of us will likely never leave your side until you see them found and returned to Ravus Manor.”

Therion smiled in spite of himself, hoping Cyrus couldn’t see it in the moonlight reflecting off the snow around them. “No, you all make that pretty clear on your own.”

Before either man could say anymore, the door to the inn was opened again and two sets of footsteps made their way through the snow. Therion turned back towards the sound to glimpse Tressa marching toward him, Alfyn close behind her with an apologetic smile on his face -- he had clearly been trying to keep her inside when she slipped out.

She stopped when Therion was close enough to see her face clearly. “Therion, hey, I’m sorry--”

“Don't apologize, kid,” he said.

Tressa frowned, perhaps thinking he didn't believe her. “But I _am_ sorry. I didn’t mean that stuff -- the mean parts, anyways.”

“It was all true.” Therion shrugged. “You told the truth, and I got mad because you were right.”

He watched as her mouth twisted in contemplation and her eyes softened. "Just tell us when this stuff is bothering you, okay?"

Alfyn was smiling gently too. "Yeah. We're a team, hear?"

"Yeah, whatever," Therion said, but the gratefulness he felt was manifest in the glitter of his eyes.

Tressa’s eyebrows drew together, and she pressed her lips into a line thoughtfully before finally saying, “was the whole thing just you being angry that I called you short?”

Therion smirked at the cheeky grin forming on her face. “You little shit.”

“Let’s not throw the word ‘little’ around, huh?” Alfyn chimed in, grinning just as wide. “You know what they say about people in glass houses.”

“You’re both _so_ funny, really,” Therion deadpanned as they all turned back towards the inn.

“I know, we’re hilarious,” Tressa said, and scooped up a snowball to hurl at him.

He quickly caught her arm to stop her mid-throw. “Don’t you dare.”

But Alfyn had taken the opportunity to form a snowball of his own, hitting Therion narrowly in the back of his shoulder. Therion leered at the man, who threw an arm around his neck good-naturedly. “Tressa would never forgive me for missing such an open shot.”

Tressa stuck her tongue out. “Payback for you calling Stubborn Giant a game for five year olds."

Therion rolled his eyes. “None of you will ever let me forget this, will you?”

“It is quite difficult to forget the sight of a human being of such incredibly short stature so angry," Cyrus said equitably to the cheers of Alfyn and Tressa, who were always ecstatic when the older man joined in on their jabs.

This continued for the time it took the group to head back into the inn as Tressa noticed Therion’s cheeks, rosy from the cold, and had a whole other field day with that. And Therion, laughing sarcastically along with her digs, realized that was more than alright with him. He still found his thoughts straying to the bangle around his wrist and his worry about whether he would ever find the dragonstones, but with less urgency now. Soon they would be able to set out again on the search. For now -- for tonight -- that all could wait. Sure, Stillsnow wasn’t where he wanted to be. But at least the company was good.


End file.
